


A Different Kind of Family

by theclaravoyant



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adopted Character, Coming Out, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Trans Character, trans!Fitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 12:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Elliot is a recent addition to the FitzSimmons family, and she's curious about why she ended up with this family in particular.Rated T for "the talk"-style discussion of puberty, pregnancy and genitalia. Also includes some mild transphobia in the discussion process (which is shortly resolved/corrected).





	A Different Kind of Family

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (paraphrased): "Fitzsimmons adopt an older child, and they ask why they never had bio children, and on top of all the reasons you want, trans Fitz comes out to them."

“So, how do you like your new room?” Fitz asks, leaning on the doorframe as he watches Elliot work. She’s tinkering with a miniature solar power kit from a previous family, and he tries not to smile at the flicker of bespoke satisfaction that brushes through his heart. He doesn’t want to smother her, and though he and Jemma have done their best to give her space the last few days, and let her settle in, it is getting harder and harder by the second. All he wants to do is scoop her up in his arms and run around a non-existent meadow, he feels so happy to finally have her after years of waiting and paperwork and rejection. She feels like a miracle, and that’s a lot for a young child in a new place.  
  
Still, she smiles at him. “It’s okay,” she promises. “It’s very nice. Just different.” 

“Well, that’s good,” Fitz agrees. “Sorry it’s so bare. Your- Jemma and I were hoping to take you out on the weekend so you can choose some things for it.” 

“Really?” Elliot looks up. Her eyes run around the plain walls, the empty pin-up board, the clean but bland Ikea furniture. “Like what?”  
  
“Whatever you want – within reason,” Fitz promises. “Bedsheets, books, art… We’re not allowed to paint the walls, but we can put stuff all over them, if you like. We really want you to feel at home here. I mean- sorry, I know you must hear that a lot, but um- ”

“Can I really pick whatever I want?” Elliot blurts, and cuts off Fitz’s mumbling. “At _your_ shops, do they have bed-sheets with astronauts on them? Or tigers? Or birds? I had tigers at one of my old houses.” 

“Sure, there are lots of different ones,” Fitz replied, finding himself mimicking Elliot’s broad grin. “I saw some with a whole jungle on it the other day.”  
  
Elliot’s eyes light up. “Did you get it?!”

“No.” Fitz pouts. “They don’t make it for beds with two people.”

“That’s sad. Adults get so much boring stuff.” 

“I know!” Fitz laughs as Elliot harrumphs at the foolishness of adults. He actually doesn’t mind not having jungle sheets – he doesn’t even mind Jemma’s slightly more old-fashioned taste in décor – but her little eight-year-old face is so serious, scowling in frustration at the world because of the indignity of boring sheets. He’s about to leave her as she contemplates returning to her very much less boring solar power activity, when the expression changes. She looks up again and tilts her head, peering curiously as if studying Fitz.

“Are you really a scientist?” she asks. 

“Yes.” Something about it sounds like an invitation, so Fitz moves into the room. When Elliot shuffles her work aside, giving him some space beside her on the carpet, he takes a seat. “Jemma is too, but a different kind.” 

“What kinds?” 

“I’m an engineer,” Fitz explains. “I built things. My favourite thing I built was an aeroplane. A really special aeroplane. Jemma is a biochemist. That’s a bit harder to explain, but um – she learns things about animals and plants, like why they glow in the dark, and then she can use that to figure out how to make other stuff glow in the dark. She’s very clever.” 

“Cool.” Elliot nods thoughtfully. Then asks: “Why did you wanna adopt me?”

To Fitz, it feels like a wild swing in the conversation, like he’s been kicked into the deep end of a pool. From tinkering with circuitry to the depth and breath of application after application; rejection after rejection – some more personal than others; after learning more of the shit Daisy had gone through in the foster system, half of which he hoped had never come anywhere near Elliot’s path. There’s a lot of emotion there, and years of gritty material, and defensiveness, and darkness, but to Elliot it is simply next on her list of _things I’m curious about._ Suddenly he wonders if he’s standing in his mother’s shoes; one minute talking about muffins and the next, nuclear fission power; one minute picking out a new set of shoes for school and the next, trying to explain where his father has gone and why. Muddling through it as best he can – and there seems to be a lot of that, of muddling, these days – he takes a deep breath and he asks: 

“What do you mean? Why did we want to adopt someone or why did we get matched with you, specifically?” 

Elliot shrugs. “Why didn’t you have kids? Most mums and dads have their own kids. We usually only go to people who can’t have kids, like two mums or two dads, or people who already have born kids. Why did you want me and not your own kids?”

“Do you ask a lot of your mums and dads this question?” Fitz wonders. 

“No,” Elliot says. “But none of them were my forever home. You’re special.” 

“Oh, okay. No pressure then.” Fitz laughs a little, but not for the first time, is struck by Elliot’s startling honesty. It’s only fair, then, he figures, to try and be honest back.

“There’s lots of reasons,” he explains. “One of them is that we wanted to be helpful. There’s lots of kids all around the world just like you, who don’t have a mum or a dad, or don’t know them. We even have an adult friend who went through the same thing when she was little, and it still makes her really sad sometimes.” 

“Even though she’s big now?” 

“Sure,” Fitz insists. “Even adults need families. But me and Jemma, we thought, there’s all these people we could help by being their new mum and dad. Instead of having our own kids, why not help out some who are already born and make sure they have a good life? We had to ask a lot of people to help us find you, but then somebody said, ‘here’s Elliot! It seems like you three would really get along,’ and Jemma and I said, ‘Yes! She seems fantastic! Please send her a-s-a-p.’ And here you are.”

“What’s the other reasons?” Elliot prods, sparing barely a moment to take in all that he’s just said. “You said there were lots.” 

“Okay, well, uh,” Fitz shifts in his seat. Suddenly he can feel the edge of her bed frame pressing against his shoulder blades with an uncomfortable intensity. Still, he’s promised to be honest and he intends to follow through. “Elliot, how much do you know about how babies get made?” 

“There’s a mummy and a daddy and they give each other a special hug and then the mummy has a baby,” Elliot says, and shrugs. “I think that’s too easy, but people don’t want to tell me more because I’m a kid. I looked up some more stuff on the Internet one time, but it was really confusing. Then I heard some of the big kids talking about it today. ‘Boys have penises, girls have vaginas.’ They had to say it over and over again. The whole class got kept in at lunch ‘cause they wouldn’t stop laughing. Do you need a penis and a vagina to have a baby?”

“Um. Well, kind of, yeah,” Fitz agrees, still a little baffled by her forwardness – and not to mention, put off by _the talk_ at the best of times. 

“Well, don’t you have one?”

“What?” 

“You’re a boy. You must have a penis. Jemma’s a girl, she must have a vagina. Does it not work properly or something? Why don’t you fix it?”

“Actually,” Fitz corrects – as gently as he can, although he can already imagine the Strongly Worded Letter Jemma is considering writing to the school. “That’s not always true. Sometimes what people are on the inside doesn’t match what they look like on the outside. Some girls have penises. Some boys have vaginas. When I was little, I used to look a lot like you, so people thought I was a girl, but actually I’m a boy. Except that I can’t give Jemma the same kind of special hug that makes babies.”

For a long moment, Elliot’s face is screwed up in thought.

“Okay,” she says, eventually. “But why would they teach me something wrong at school then? Is Miss Waters a bad teacher?”

Fitz smiles sadly at her. There’s many a sting that’s been leveled at him in his life, it’s one of the reasons he tends to keep this side of himself a secret from people outside a very exclusive circle of trust. But he also knows how damaging it can be to lose trust, especially for Elliot, and he doesn’t want to curse it prematurely. 

“There’s lots of reasons,” he simplifies, “but I’m sure Miss Waters is an excellent teacher, and if she’s saying something wrong it’s probably not on purpose. I also think you should listen to the whole lesson before you decide if it’s good or bad – not just what the big kids were laughing about at lunch. Okay?” 

“Okay.” Elliot pouts, and though somewhat consoled, Fitz can see there’s still something on her mind. He bumps her shoulder lightly.

“And, hey, Jemma and I are very smart, so if you think you’re teacher’s wrong about something, you can always come and tell us, and ask questions okay? No matter what it is.” 

“Okay.” She seems to settle a little more at this – as if the world is no longer as complicated as, for a second there, it had seemed – and Fitz smiles. 

“Now,” he begins afresh, “what did you actually learn in _your_ class today?”


End file.
